Bad Girls

Bad Girls                                                   1296

Hey!  I'm back home in Rochester after a fun-filled stint at the Lake Ontario Playhouse in Sacketts Harbor, NY.  Today was the Can-Am fest, some sort of Canadian-American fellowship festival, which included an oom-pah parade that woke me up at 11 A.M. in the morning.  How rude!

After being abused at the coffee shop, I followed Sky Sands around and watched  him set up for his big kid's magic show in the town gazebo, and he watched me eat a hamburger, hotdog, and a chicken leg that would have made Henry the Eighth whimper.  I also talked my way into a piece of watermelon...the firemen's chicken roast offered a chicken leg for $5.50, or a meal for $7.50.  I didn't want the beans or the potato salad, so I just got the chicken leg, moved down the line, and then offered to give the woman who was handing out the watermelon a buck or so for a piece.  She wasn't taking any money, the guy at the front of the line was, and rather than send me back through the line, she just gave me a piece.  I love small-town people because they just keep it simple.  Plus they give away watermelon to hungry-looking out-of-towners.

Tonight, there were three bitchlerette parties.  And no, I didn't misspell bacherlorette, I call them bitch-lerettes, because they always commandeer a show and think it's all about them.  I don't mind a group being overly festive, but the whole bachelorette thing stuns me....the purpose is to go out and act like whores, and yet it's all just a big tease.  They suck on penis candies and penis straws, but if an actual penis made the scene, they'd run from it like it was made of live spiders and dead birds.  Meanwhile, the bachelor party is a scene out of Caligula...any guy who has his bachelor party at a comedy club is a hen-pecked fag.  Never you mind that I had mine at a club, it wasn't during a public show.  We had whiskey and poker and good manly things...I think there was food, too, I don't quite remember.

Anyway, the bitchlerettes practically ruined the show with their heckling and carrying on, and it was not the most artistically satisfying show of the week, but somehow, I performed better than on the three previous nights.  I may be getting too used to playing for gin-soaked rednecks, and I think that may hurt me when I start moving into "A" rooms with people who actually pay attention to the show.

I gotta go...I'm helping Pamela at the Italian Festival tomorrow, so I need some sleep.  I'll write more when I have time.  In the meantime, pass the link to this journal along to any folk whom you think might enjoy it.

Ralph Tetta

Rochester, NY